A First Year at Hogwarts
by mirrormerecos
Summary: Jessica Weaver, 11, has just found out she is a witch. See what happens during her first year at Hogwarts, when she meets Headmaster Snape.
1. Chapter 1: The Hogwarts Letter

_This fic is a set of short stories written for a contest on . Since the forum is closing I decided to post these shorts here. Each story was written to satisfy contest prompts and I will include those prompts at the beginning of each one. _

_This is about an original character's first year at Hogwarts, starting with receiving her Hogwarts letter. Her name is Jessica Weaver and I had to keep that information obscured while writing the stories so that forum voters could not figure out who wrote what. Eventually Jessica has several tangles with Headmaster Snape, for you Severus fans. _

* * *

The sound of splashing water drifted up from the courtyard and into my second story bedroom. Stretching out of a good night's sleep, I closed my eyes again and lay listening to its music as I did every morning when the weather was warm enough to have my window open. The sky was just starting to lighten and the fragrance of the jasmine trellised against the house floated in with the murmurs from the fountain.

"Hoo-hoo" My eyes flew open - was that a mourning dove? I loved birds and this could be a break from my usual routine - a real treat!

"Hoo-hoo" But the call was too loud for a dove. I crept out of my bed and sidled up to the window. There was an addition to the top of the fountain - and it was too large to be a dove, either. I strained to see in the half light as a head swivelled toward me and I caught sight of the large yellow eyes.

"It's an owl!"

"An owl?" I startled as my father, also an early riser, spoke behind me from the doorway. Excited, I ran to him and tugged on his arm.

"Come and see, Dad!" He let me pull him forward, but we had only made one step when there was a swoosh of wings beating against the air and the scrabble of talons on the metal window frame. Another flurry of feathers and it was on my bed! We both froze. The owl was rather large and its outstretched wings nearly spanned the entire mattress. It folded them quietly and looked down at its leg, to which was attached a small pouch. "Isn't that odd behavior for an owl? And what is that . . . " I looked up at my father, the next question dying on my lips.

His face was quite still and may have been pale - it was hard to tell in the dim light. He pulled me to him and put an arm around my shoulder - but not to shield me from the bird. He seemed only to want me close. The owl held out its leg. We just stood there. It hopped to the edge of the bed and offered its leg again. My father took a tentative step toward it, knelt by the bed and, with shaking hands, opened the bird's pouch and removed a letter.

"Can you wait while I explain?" My father seemed to be talking to the bird. I laughed.

"There's no way he understands you, Dad!" I said, delighted anyway.

"Hoo-hoo," said the owl and hopped back up on the windowsill.

"Let's get some breakfast, Jess." He took my shoulders and pointed me toward the door. "I have to explain to you about Hogwarts."

"Hog what?" I said as we walked down the hall.

* * *

In the light over the dining room table, I could see that my father _was_ pale. As I poured milk over my Cheerios, he opened the envelope and glanced over the two pages it had contained. He looked up at me and tried to smile.

"You know I always tell you how special your mother was?" I nodded. "Well, you're special too." I felt the heat rise in my face and looked down.

"I know, Dad, you tell me that a lot." He smiled a real smile now, and reached across the table and took my hand.

"Always remember that, sweetie." He folded the letter, slipped it back in the envelope. "Your mother was special to me–to us–but she was also special because she was different. In the same way that you are different. You've noticed those different things, haven't you?"

"You mean like when I was able get that cat out of the tree at Christie's house?" He nodded. "And the time I somehow ended up with purple hair?"

"Yes, just like that. You can do those things because your mother could do those things. She could do those things because . . . because she was a witch." This was turning out to be a strange morning. I laughed harder than when my father spoke to the owl.

"Yeah, good joke, Dad! I'm a witch." My father stopped smiling. At the look on his face, I stopped laughing.

"After your mother died, I moved you here to California hoping her people would not notice you were gone. Hoping that you hadn't inherited her talents and we could be a regular family."

"Her people?"

"The people from her world are witches and wizards, Honey. In the past few years I've come to realize that you _did_ inherit her talents. And now this letter . . . this letter confirms that you have. I'm out of my depth here. I have no way to help you learn about that part of yourself. When your mother was your age, she went to live at their school; a school called Hogwarts." He slid the envelope toward me. The address was written in green ink. " This letter is inviting you to attend your mother's old school so that you can learn how to use those powers you have inherited." I looked around the room and up at the chandelier.

"You must have a camcorder hidden around here somewhere. Ha, ha–funny joke, Dad." But something in his eyes - pain? - cut my laughter short.

"You just saw that this letter was delivered by an owl. Do you think that is normal? If we go up to your room, that owl will still be there because I asked him to wait. Does that sound like what a regular owl would do?"

"Why did you ask it to wait?" I whispered.

"So we could write back and tell them you will be at Hogwarts on September 1st." My father's eyes were moist. Suddenly, tears sprung into my own.

"You mean I have to go away? I have to leave you alone?"

"Yes, sweetie, you do. It's the only way you can learn what you need to learn."

"But I don't want . . . "

"You don't want to learn about your mother? She loved you as much as I do." I picked up the envelope with the green writing and pulled out my letter.


	2. Chapter 2: The Blue Wand

_Prompt: Get your wand, buy a pet or meet a HP character in Diagon Alley. Contrary to Ollivander's bit of wisdom, I chose the wand._

* * *

"Good morning! Welcome to Ollivanders." The man had silver-white hair and pale lavender eyes that gleamed in the dim light. He fixed those eyes upon my own. "You must be a witch in need of a wand?" I nodded. He turned, appraising my father. "And you, sir," he held out his hand, "appear to be a Muggle. Am I correct?" My father smiled weakly, having answered that question at each shop we had visited this morning. He clasped the proffered hand.

"Yes, sir . . .Mr. . . ?"

"Ollivander. Garwain Ollivander. Current proprietor until my father returns." Worry flitted across the shopkeeper's face, just for a moment; then a faint cough from the back room caused him to smile. "Current proprietor along with my brother, that is." Ollivander snapped his fingers and a tape measure floated in front of me. "Shall we begin? Wand hand, my dear?"

"Left." To my delight, Ollivander's tape measure danced about me, measuring here and there on my body. When stretched between my eyes, it tickled my nose. I giggled.

"That should do!" Ollivander said and the tape flew into his hand. He read the sliver lettering at one end. "Odd." He wandered about the overloaded shelves, returning with three boxes. "Let's start with these."

I stepped to the counter and heard a faint thump. Did I bump into the cabinet? I looked down. Nope. Plenty of room.

Ollivander opened the first box. "Vine and unicorn hair, 11", pliant." As I reached out, the other boxes suddenly jiggled. I hesitated. Ollivander looked surprised. "Go ahead," he encouraged. The wand jumped into my hand, blue sparks spurting from the end. The other boxes bounced about and the thump sounded again.

"Normally, I'd consider that a match, but let's experiment." He returned the wand to its box, and opened the next one. "Laurel, phoenix feather core, 10-3/4", solid." The same thing happened: the wand jumped into my hand, trailing blue sparks. The other boxes trembled and a thump came from the cabinet below. "Is it possible? After all this time?" Ollivander mumbled. He reached for the laurel wand, but I felt it heat up. Electricity arced to his outstretched fingers. He snatched his hand away and I smelled burnt hair. "Unusual. Let's just have you return it to the box. " I obeyed.

Ollivander shoved the wands to the counter's end and bent to open the cabinet. In one hand he cradled a narrow velvet pouch, midnight blue and dusted with golden stars; with the other he pulled the fabric back, revealing the heavily carved handle of a stunning blue wand. Nervous, I reached for it and, again, the wand flew to my hand, humming softly. "Give it a swish." Blue–gold beams of light traced through the air and the wand vibrated with the pure, clear sound of singing crystal. "Breathtaking, " Ollivander said, enraptured. "Simply breathtaking."

"This wand was made by my great-grandfather, Gerbold Octavius Ollivander, over 124 years ago. It has never chosen anyone," his eyes narrowed as he looked at me, "until today." He opened the pouch and I replaced the wand. "Galbrin?" Ollivander raised his voice. "I'm stepping out for a few minutes." A muffled grunt transferred responsibility for incoming customers. "Let's discuss this at the Three Broomsticks." He indicated the door.

* * *

"This is an extraordinarily unique magical instrument." The waitress set our drinks down and Ollivander studied the blue wand, laying on its spangled pouch. "Rowan wood, ironically, was used by ancient Muggles to repulse witches. However, it displays profound defensive capabilities against Dark Magic and those practicing the Dark Arts. Secondary qualities, gleaned from legend, are diverse: guiding its master while traveling; repelling storms and deflecting lightening; an ability to control ghosts; powers of Divinational scrying and a penchant to find whatsoever its master seeks." Ollivander sipped his tea.

"Nor is it ordinary rowan, but "flying rowan"; its source was never rooted in soil. It was an epiphyte that lived in another tree–that alone would multiply its power–but in this case the host was an elder tree, which produces the most powerful wands known to wizardkind. I suspect this will make the secondary qualities of the wood much more potent.

"Wand wood does not need preservation as inherent magic fulfills that function. This wand, however, was treated with woad, also known as "Asp of Jerusalem," which imparts the unique blue coloration and contributes further characteristics: healing abilities and enhancement of shape-shifting.

"One thestral hair is rare enough for a core, but this wand has three braided together. This is so unprecedented that I've no clue as to what effect will be brought to bear on its operation, though I suspect the braiding will enhance control. The fact it has chosen you suggests, even at this young age, you are acquainted with death." He managed to drag his eyes away from the wand to look at me.

My father squeezed my hand; I nodded. "My mother."

"Ah. Although the handle appears to be scored to enhance grip, if you look closely, the carvings are runes, shown to my great-grandfather in a dream. He did not know what they signified, but you may discover that secret some day. Its ability to sing was completely and utterly unexpected.

"The wand is priceless. Your father would not be able to afford it. But I cannot pass up the opportunity to learn more about the properties of the materials from which it is constructed, so I propose a trade. If you promise to write to me, in exquisite detail, about its magical attributes, then the wand is yours." He offered his hand.

"Deal!" I said. We shook hands.

"And you will need such a wand, my dear. Things aren't quite right at Hogwarts." My father's eyebrows lifted.

"What do you mean?"

"New headmaster," Ollivander reached for an abandoned newspaper from the neighboring table. "Here." He handed it to my father. I leaned over to see.

Although the picture on the front of the Daily Prophet was a wizarding photograph, it barely moved at all. The man featured had icy black eyes, unblinking in a pale face framed by lank black hair. I read the headline.

"Who . . . ," I asked, studying Ollivander's face, " . . . is Severus Snape?"


	3. Chapter 3: The Sorting

_Prompt: Sort your character into a house and include listed associated words for that house. _

_Author's note: Because of the circumstances of Jessica's sorting, I used two sets of prompted words, these have been bolded._

* * *

Shivering uncontrollably, I followed my fellow first years past the entrance of a huge room filled with tables at which hundreds of students sat. Floating above were thousands of glowing candles. Fascinated, I stared. It looked gloriously warm. Not watching my feet, I walked straight into a stocky little woman who had just been introduced as the deputy headmistress. She whirled about, knocking me to the ground. My wand fell from my robes and skittered across the flagstones.

"Excuse me, Professor Carrow," I said, picking myself up.

"Idiot girl," she hissed and then saw my unusual wand a few feet away. "Where did you get that?" she demanded and stepped forward to pick it up. On it's own, my wand spun about and threw a small bolt of bluish light at her outstretched hand. She jumped back, stung, and turned on me. "How dare you attack a teacher!"

"I . . . I didn't," I stammered. "I don't know how to use a wand yet." Her eyes narrowed.

"You're that little half-blood from America, aren't you?" Her sneering tone was threatening. "I know just how to fix your wagon, missy. Join your classmates. Now." She indicated an entrance where the other first years waited. I scooped up my wand and hurriedly followed.

"Way to go," one boy whispered to me. "She's a Death Eater, you know."

"What's a Death Eater?" I asked, unsure I wanted the answer.

"They're Dark Wizards that . . ." he was interrupted by a scream. A pearly white figure drifted through the stone wall opposite, floating in midair, face gaunt and robes splattered with silvery stains.

"That's the **Bloody Baron**," said the boy, "Ghost of Slytherin House."

"The headmaster awaits," the ghost said.

"Form one line, alphabetical order by last name." Carrow shouted at us. "Follow me to the High Table. Each student will approach the headmaster, look him directly in the eye and then take your seat on the stool. The hat will then Sort you." I was last in line as we filed out of the chamber.

The man seated at the center of the table was the same I had seen in the Daily Prophet: Severus Snape. Frightened, I watched his black eyes focus on each student that stood before him. Face expressionless, he did not speak at all. Everyone clapped politely as each student sorted.

It was my turn. I kept my head down as I stepped up to the table and forced myself to look up and into those eyes. The room shimmered into the background as images seemed to float across my vision: the owl that told of Hogwarts and of my being a witch; visiting Diagon Alley with my father; Ollivander explaining about my wand; the train trip; crossing the lake with Hagrid; the incident with Alecto Carrow. The room returned to normal. I sat down.

Professor Carrow softly mumbled something as she put the Sorting hat on my head. "SLYTHERIN!" shouted the hat. She smirked as she retrieved it, but the headmaster held up his hand.

"No." he said, glaring at Professor Carrow. She met his gaze for a few moments and then looked away. He waved his hand and the hat floated back onto my head. Murmurs rippled through the hall. Whispers were exchanged at the teacher's table.

"Well, well, back again?" said the quiet voice. "My decision stands. No question whatsoever. You belong in Ravenclaw."

"You said Slytherin." I whispered to the hat.

"Not me," it said. "Professor Carrow's spell made everyone hear something else."

"Then I'm supposed to be . . ."

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat. The proclamation was met with utter silence. Carrow angrily snatched the hat from my head.

"**Merlin**'s beard!" exclaimed **Professor Slughorn**. "Headmaster, I must protest . . ."

"Nevertheless," said **Professor Snape**, "Ravenclaw it is." He stared at me.

I quickly took a seat at the end of Ravenclaw table. No one spoke to me nor would anyone meet my eye. I looked at the empty golden plate in front of me. Food suddenly appeared down the center of the table and while it all looked delicious, I didn't feel much like eating.

After dinner I trailed my tablemates as we followed the prefects out of the Great Hall. In the entryway one Ravenclaw turned to me. "Wouldn't you prefer the **underwater views** of the lake from the Slytherin common room?" she said, pointing at students heading toward the dungeons.

"What do you mean?" I asked. Two Ravenclaw boys had dropped behind as well and now blocked my path up the staircase.

"You should be in Slytherin House," she said flatly.

"No, the hat said . . ." I began, but one boy interrupted.

"The headmaster forced the hat to name another house," he said, "because he wanted a spy in Ravenclaw. Snape is a Death Eater – the worst one. He killed our last headmaster. His spy is not welcome in our house."

"If he wanted me as spy, why didn't he put me in Ravenclaw to begin with? Then no one would suspect me." This didn't seem to have occurred to them.

Just then a prefect peered over a balustrade far overhead. "We've figured out the answer." The students confronting me turned and ran up the stairs. I ran after them. The prefect was holding the door open. He hesitated when I approached, as if he were going to stop me, but then decided otherwise and let me enter. I stepped into the most beautiful room I had ever seen.

Bronze silk draped every window, framing **stunning views** of Hogwarts' grounds and the surrounding mountains, now ghostly blue under bright moonlight. Elegant chairs and tables were spread about the room. Bookcases were everywhere. This would be a delightful place to study . . . if I were allowed to stay.

The prefect called the first years over to a book-filled alcove. "Here are **delicious little cupcakes** for you, from our Head of House." She pointed to a platter on a small table in front of a marble statue of . . . **Rowena Ravenclaw**, proclaimed the carved lettering at the base. I watched as each student claimed a treat. There was one left. "That's yours," She smiled at me. Uncertain, I reached out to take it, but it started dancing! The prefect laughed. "That's **Professor Flitwick**'s way of cheering us up," she said. "Looks like you're Ravenclaw after all."


	4. Chapter 4: Halloween

Prompts: Write a scary Halloween themed story. It has to involve one of these characters: Peeves / Filch / Hankerton Humble (caretaker during the Founders)

* * *

The water balloon hit me square in the back just as I made it to the staircase. I took the steps two at a time as Peeves launched a jack-o-lantern at me, missing, but splattering my robes with pumpkin guts. He was out of ammo and I raced down the seventh floor corridor, soaking wet, looking for a hiding place before he reloaded. When I neared a hideous tapestry with trolls in tutus clubbing a much smaller wizard, I heard the poltergeist's voice echoing through the corridor. "Don't want to be creeping around here," he cackled. "No, indeed! The headmaster haunts these halls and he's the Death Eater that likes to eat firsties!" I couldn't tell where his voice was coming from and dithered in front of the tapestry unsure where to go, but desperately needing a place to hide.

Suddenly, an entryway appeared in the wall. I ran to it, wrenched the door open and froze, terrified. The headmaster, black-haired and black-robed, stood at a workbench. In one hand he held a butcher knife, blood dripping from the blade. A small head dangled from the hair he gripped in his other hand. He turned toward me and the surprise in his black eyes was quickly replaced with anger. He dropped the head, slammed the knife on the workbench and quickly strode toward me.

I screamed. At the top of my lungs. Trying to run back down the corridor, I barely made three steps before tripping. He grabbed my upper arm and nearly lifted me completely off the ground. "Don't eat me! Don't eat me!" I screamed, trying to kick at him, but my legs weren't working right. With my free hand I pulled out my wand.

"You won't be needing that!" He snarled and my wand flew to his hand. He pocketed it, dragged me back inside and turned to shut the door. I saw my chance. His grip on my arm was high enough to be within reach. I chomped down on his thumb. He stifled a yelp and let go. I ran for the farthest corner and stood there, trapped and shaking from fear and cold. Tears began to sting my eyes.

"Why you little sh–,"

"Severus!" A portrait of an old wizard with silver hair and beard, with twinkling blue eyes peering over half-moon glasses, hung high above the workbench and was staring down at Professor Snape. "I think I preferred when you called the students dunderheads."

"Please return to my office, Professor Dumbledore," the headmaster said. The portrait started to speak again, but he raised a hand to forestall it. "I know – I have everything here." The wizard in the portrait smiled, winked at me, and then left. A wand suddenly appeared in the headmaster's hand and he waved it at a corner near the door. A small stool materialized. "Sit down, Miss Weaver," he said, curtly. Still trembling, I opened my mouth to speak, but he pointed a finger at me. "No more screaming, is that clear?"

I nodded and edged my way along the wall toward the stool. It was closer to the door. He turned back to the workbench and pulled items from several shelves above. "Where did you get the ridiculous notion that I was going to eat you?" He added various amounts of ingredients from some jars to a mug and pointed his wand at its base. It glowed a dull red for a few moments.

"Peeves said you especially liked to eat first years. I thought he was lying but . . ." I nervously glanced at the workbench where the head he had been holding lay alongside the body it belonged with. The bloody knife was there too.

"That is a mandrake root, Miss Weaver. Unfortunately, the sap resembles blood." He prodded the body and now I could see that it did look more plant than person. "It is a valuable potion ingredient. Or was." The mug suddenly released a puff of pinkish steam. He waved his hand and it gently rose into the air and floated over to me. I took it and sniffed. It smelled like hot chocolate. I took a sip. It was _excellent_ hot chocolate. The headmaster leaned back against the workbench and eyed me carefully.

"You are Ravenclaw – a house purportedly known for its intelligence. If your wit were anywhere near as sharp as your teeth," he rubbed his thumb, "you might have realized that eating our students would eliminate the need to teach them, would it not?" That hadn't quite occurred to me. I hung my head. Maybe I _didn't_ belong in Ravenclaw.

"Although, that would certainly make my job easier," he grumbled under his breath. I took another sip from the mug. "But now we come to the real problem," he said. "How did you find this room?" The look in the headmaster's eyes made me nervous again.

"I was trying to hide from Peeves and this door suddenly appeared."

"No one must know about this lab." he said very quietly. "That gives me two options."

"I promise I won't say anything, ever," I said, unease stirring in my stomach.

"No, you won't. Stay here until I get back. Is that clear?" he said sternly. I nodded and he opened the door and left. I tiptoed over and tried the handle. It was unlocked. But where would I go anyway? Shivering again, I returned to the stool. A few moments later he was back.

"Miss Weaver, come here." He held the door open for me. Once in the corridor, he handed me a piece of parchment. "Read it." He waited until I finished. "Now, tell me where my secret potions lab is located." I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I tried to point at the open door and I could not. "Excellent. You may return to Ravenclaw Tower." He turned to go.

"Headmaster?"

"What?"

"I . . .I'll need my wand for . . . for class." He pulled it from the pocket in his robes, examined it intently for a moment and then handed it to me.

"Interesting color," he said and swept back into the room. The door disappeared.

Remembering what Ollivander had told me about my wand, I knew that, whatever else the headmaster might be, he was no Death Eater.


	5. Chapter 5: Uric the Oddball

Prompt: Write a historical essay (Why does this character belong on a chocolate frog card) or a story about one of these chocolate frog card characters. I choose old Uric. We had the option to design a frog card too, which I did. Doesn't seem able to post on this site.

* * *

Entering the Ravenclaw common room, I headed toward the alcove where my early morning study group was to meet. I had twenty minutes before anyone showed up, so I selected a comfy chair, sat down, and examined the dark blue satin bag I had brought with me.

The bag, spangled with gold stars, had belonged to my late mother. When we packed my trunk before I left for Hogwarts, my father had brought some of her things down from the attic and placed them in the trunk with our purchases from Diagon Alley. I had been so busy with classes and adjusting to a world with magic that I hadn't had a chance to look through any of it. I decided to make time this morning.

I loosened the drawstring closure and stuck my hand in. It seemed rather empty, but I snagged something and pulled it out. It was an old Chocolate Frog Card. As I watched, gold lettering appeared and floated just above the surface. It read:

_From wizard to frog_  
_If path you can trace_  
_Three of your wishes_  
_Old Uric can ace_

The writing faded and I was looking at a maze with "Uric the Oddball" at the top and a frog at the bottom. It was an easy maze and immediately I could see two possible solutions. I turned the card over and there was a picture of a wizard with a long flowing beard and a jellyfish on his head. As I watched, a tentacle dropped down and the wizard's eye bulged. It looked painful. I turned the card again and the maze was gone. Instead, a description of Uric had appeared. I read through the details and, smiling, I flipped the card again and the maze was back. I loved magic! A two sided card could have three sides.

Expecting some kind of magical result, I traced one of the maze solutions from wizard to frog with my finger. Nothing happened. I traced the other path. Nada. Hmm. Perhaps . . . ? I pulled out my wand and used the tip to trace the first path and golden sparkles marked it's trail. There was a puff of smoke and the wizard from the card stood before me. Stunned, I gaped at him.

"Are you real?" I asked. He plopped down in a chair opposite me and I could see his weight compress the cushion. A Ravenclaw answer if I ever saw one. He looked rather dejected. The card said Uric had disappeared while experimenting with Time-Turners.

"You're actually Uric, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"How did you get stuck . . . ," I lifted the Frog Card, " . . . in here?"

"I was testing a Time-Turner's ability to travel into the future. I met a wizard named Grindelwald. We got into an argument and he cursed me into that card."

"Were you cursed into a genie or something? The card says you'll grant me three wishes," I said. He snorted and shook his head. Unfortunately, this dislodged a jellyfish tentacle which swung forward and stung his cheek. Just like the picture on the card, his eyeball bulged to a freakish size. I grimaced - it seemed to bother me more than it did Uric.

"No," he said, "I'm just a regular wizard and can only do regular magic."

"And you don't know how to undo the curse?" Again he shook his head and I braced myself for a repeat of the bulging eye, but the tentacles stayed in place this time. I heard someone opening a dormitory door, likely one of my study group.

"Maybe what we need are a few more Ravenclaws and we can figure this out," I said and set the card down on a side table. As soon as I let go of it, Uric disappeared. I hurried into the common room and spotted Johan just as he exited the stairway. He was one of the smartest students in our year.

"Hey, " I said, "Can you help me counter a curse I've just come across?" He looked a bit sleepy, but perked up at my request.

"A curse?" He asked. I nodded, explained about Uric and headed back to the alcove, Johan in tow.

"Watch this," I said. I retrieved the Frog Card from the table and traced the path with my wand. Uric reappeared.

"Cool!" Johan exclaimed. After introductions, I handed Johan the card to examine. He studied it carefully.

"I don't know," he said, passing the card back to me. "I bet old Flitwick could figure it out."

"I wish Professor Flitwick were here, then," I said. There was a puff of smoke and Professor Flitwick stood before us. His hair was wet, his face lathered and a razor was poised by his cheek. A towel loosely wrapped about his waist was the only semblance of clothing he had on. We stared at him. He stared back. The loose towel became a bit looser.

"What the . . . ?" the little teacher squeaked. Clutching the errant towel he ran through the common room and out the door to the hallway. I looked at Uric.

"Did you do that?" He shook his head and a tentacle . . . I quickly looked back down at the Frog Card. And sudden realization hit me.

"I've got it!" I said, excitedly. Rather than explain, I'd show them. "I wish Uric was freed from the curse Grindelwald placed on him." A puff of smoke enveloped Uric.

"Did it work?" he queried eagerly, the smoke dissipating. I shrugged my shoulders and set the Frog Card down on the table. Uric remained standing where he was.

"Apparently!" I said proudly.

"Good one!" said Johan and high-fived me. Uric pawed his beard and pulled out what looked like an intricate piece of jewelry on a chain. He began twisting it frantically. "No, wait!" Johan yelled, but Uric had vanished. He turned toward me. "Does he know what year it is?"

"Doubtful," I answered. Picking up the card, I turned it until the description showed. It hadn't changed. "I don't think he made it back to his own time."

Johan shrugged, plopped down on a chair and opened his book to study.

Looking at the card, I wondered where my mother got it. I smiled. If I really wanted to know, there was one wish left.


	6. Chapter 6

Prompt: Write a story about a Charms or Transfiguration class in which you charm or transfigure an object. You should keep it relatively simple, a first year is not capable of transfiguring/charming their fellow students. Not even if you are the next Dumbledore or Voldemort. Include one failed attempt and one successful attempt and mention your teacher.

* * *

Rosemary was a Hufflepuff. We had become friends the first day of class and had shared a table in Beginning Transfiguration ever since. Right now Rosemary looked a bit green around the gills, as my father used to say. When I sat down she pointed to Professor McGonagall's desk. There was a glass tank filled with pure white toads.

"Let me guess," I said, stowing my book bag under the table, "you don't like white toads?"

"I don't like toads in any color," Rosemary said. Although I was only eleven years old, this girl was the most squeamish person I had met in my entire life and I suspected that, even if I lived another hundred years, she would still be at the top of that list. Professor McGonagall stood up from behind her desk.

"Today we will be adding another element to our transfigurations. Previously you have started learning how to change the elements of material, texture and shape, with varying degrees of success." She gave a sharp glance at two boys near the back of the class who already had reputations for goofing around. "The next element we will work on will be color. Everyone come and get a toad and I'll explain your tasks for today."

I leaned over to Rosemary and whispered, "Want me to get one for you? Then you probably won't have to touch it." She nodded a bit queasily. With most of the other students I made my way to the front of the class. Professor McGonagall continued her instructions.

"As you all should be aware of by now, it is easier to transfigure something back to its original state than it is transfiguring it in the first place. Before class I changed these toads to white and I want you to change them back to purple." She waved her hand and a picture of a purple toad appeared on the board. "After I have inspected your work, you may attempt the more difficult task of changing them to white again."

I plopped a fat, white toad down in front of Rosemary. They looked at each other in dismay.

"What is the most important factor for success?" Professor McGonagall said, surveying the class. She eyed one of the goof-offs at the back. "Howard?"

"Focus on the end result!" Howard declared.

"Then proceed." McGonagall smiled, apparently content that she had been able to pound _something_ into the boy. I tried to focus on that end result, imagining my toad a nice bright white and flicked my wand at the creature. Nothing. I looked closer. Not even a tinge. Disappointed, I set out to try again.

"Hey," Rosemary poked me. "You're supposed to turn your _toad_ purple, not your hair."

"My hair?" I pulled a lock of it from behind my ear. The long brown strand I expected to see was, indeed, purple. Purple toad purple. "Oh great," I said. "The last time this happened I had to wait for a whole week before it turned back."

"Last time?" Professor McGonagall asked. I hadn't noticed her standing behind us. "When did your hair turn color before?

"It happened a few months before my Hogwarts letter arrived," I said, blushing. I didn't want her to know I had already failed on the first assignment. "I was drinking some grape Kool-aid and a friend said she wished her hair was purple and suddenly mine was."

"What's Kool-aid?" Rosemary asked.

"Never mind that now," Professor McGonagall interrupted. "I'll change it back." She waved her wand over my head, but the lock in my hand didn't change. "I see," she said, her eyes narrowing at me.

Just then a loud caterwauling echoed down the corridor outside our classroom. Peeves was in full throat and whoever he was taunting was giving it back in spades, and with a few hexes too. Suddenly the poltergeist swooped into our classroom, cackling his head off.

"Deputy headmaster coming this way!" he screeched.

"Thank you, Peeves," said McGonagall. Moving quickly she pointed her wand at my toad and it turned into a knit cap.

"Put this on, quickly! Cover your hair!" She grabbed my arm, pulled me from my seat and pushed me toward the front of the classroom "Go to my office and wait for me," She whispered urgently in my ear. Just before I shut the door I peeked out - a scowling Amycus Carrow confronted Professor McGonagall.

About ten minutes later Professor McGonagall entered her office laughing. "I've no idea where Peeves found bubotuber pus, but I never thought I'd see the day when I was glad to have a poltergeist around!" She strode past me and pulled one of the books from the shelves behind her desk. Turning, she handed me the volume and I scanned the title: _Managing Metamorphagism_.

"You, my dear, are a Metamorhmagus." She took my hands in hers. "As such, you are impervious to another's attempt to transfigure you. This is why I couldn't change your hair color - only you can do that. However, I can guide you to make the transformation yourself. Close your eyes and pretend you're looking at yourself in a mirror. What color is your hair?"

"Brown," I said.

"Very good! Now open your eyes." She pulled a lock of my hair forward to show me. The purple was gone.

"Eventually you'll be able to metamorphose into almost anything. And most metamorphmagi become quite good at regular transfiguration. You need to study up on your talent and make sure these idiot Death Eaters don't accidentally find out about you. They actively recruit those with such inborn talents - even children." She took out her wand and gave it a flick in my direction, then pulled the toad off of my head. "Now go and finish your assignment."

Taking toad and tome, I headed back to my desk. I slipped my new book into my backpack and stared my toad in the eye. He stared back. Concentrating, now with a bit more confidence, I flicked my wand at him. In an instant, he was purple! I turned to Rosemary, a big grin on my face.

"Well, your hair is still brown . . . but your nose really looks funny!"

I had a lot of reading to do tonight. 


	7. Chapter 7

Prompt: Valentine's Day is either your favorite holiday or a hated holiday, choose one and include two of six required elements:

a) Lockhart's cupid dwarves  
b) Flowers/chocolate/love potions for your Valentine  
c) The appearance of a professor  
d) The Room of Requirement  
e) Dungbombs  
f) A friend who teases you

I choose to include all six elements, shown in bold.

* * *

It had started snowing heavily at noon and, sitting at the window of our dormitory two hours later, I despaired of the owl making it here in time. All the other gifts I had gathered for my friends and teachers were secreted in the trunk at the foot of my bed. I had been planning this for weeks. My mother had been born on Valentine's Day and my father and I had celebrated it with a vengeance ever since she had died. Despite the current climate at Hogwarts, I was determined to observe the holiday tomorrow if only to honor my mother.

Although everyone seemed to hate the headmaster, he had helped me out on several occasions and I decided to give him a gift as well – anonymously, of course. As the snow piled up against the window, my thoughts drifted back to what happened at the beginning of the week . . .

_Our small group of first years quickly made our way to the third floor corridor to carry out the covert operation. We each had been given a sack with what looked like __**dungbombs**__ embossed with three W's in fancy script. Our mission was simple: toss them on the corridor walls just outside the bathroom and then clear out as quickly as possible. _

_But they weren't dungbombs, exactly. When they hit, they exploded and plastered the walls with white, red and pink . . . hearts. I was entranced! So much so that I didn't notice when the rest of my group fled at the sound of approaching footfalls. It was Alecto Carrow. _

_I started to slowly back away from her, but she raised her wand and pointed it at me._

_"This is the main reason I joined the Hogwarts staff," she snarled at me. "Cruc . . ."_

_The Deputy Headmistress dropped to the floor. The Headmaster stepped out of the bathroom doorway as his wand slipped back up his sleeve. He did not look happy. But then, __**Professor Snape**__ never looked happy. _

_"It must be genetic, Miss Weaver," he said flatly "Your penchant for Valentine festivities nearly rivals that of your mother's cousin. __**Gilderoy Lockhart took it to another level by coercing dwarves to dress as cupids**__ and deliver Valentine cards to students and staff."_

_"My mother's cousin? Sir? You know my mother's family?" I asked, trying to keep the quaver out of my voice and my hands from shaking. _

_"Cynthia Lockhart attended Hogwarts when I was a student here," he said. "She was a few years younger. I was sorry to hear of her . . . passing." He said that in such an odd way that I looked up at him. He was staring blankly ahead at nothing except, perhaps, a memory. He must have been nearly the same age as my father: old. I wanted to ask him about my mother, but I thought I was pushing my luck as it was._

_He frowned at the colorful hearts covering the walls, many of which were starting to drip. "Clean it up. Now." _

_"Yes, sir." Luckily, I was fairly adept with the cleaning spell. I pointed my wand at the nearest heart. "Scourgify."_

_"Only four hundred more to go," he said, eyes narrowing. "Ginny Weasley put you up to this, didn't she? This looks like a product from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, of which she probably has an endless supply."_

_Apparently, that was what the three W's stood for. I moved onto the next heart without answering, pretending the question rhetorical._

_"Look at me, Miss Weaver." My mouth went dry as I turned and looked up at the headmaster. Everything seemed to shimmer for a moment and then an image of Ginny floated across my mind. _

_"And their base of operations?" he demanded. _

_The tapestry with the trolls in tutus drifted in front of my eyes as well as the secret door across from it. The shimmering dissipated as tears took its place._

_"Ah. As I suspected," he said quietly. "__**The Room of Requirement**__." He pulled out his wand. _

_"Tell Miss Weasley and Mr. Longbottom that to continue to harass the Death Eaters in this castle is the height of stupidity." He flicked his wand down the hall and all the hearts disappeared. Then he pointed it at Professor Carrow, softly said "Obliviate" and took off down the corridor._

. . . I realized I had fallen asleep when I felt the poke to my shoulder. Colleen, fellow dorm mate, prodded me again.

**"Dreaming about that Gryffindor second year you met at lunch the other day?" she teased,** but laughed when I rolled my eyes. "Your owl came to that window." She pointed across the room where a damp, nondescript box sat upon a table.

Eagerly, I rushed over, opened the box and pulled out the potted plant my father had sent at my request and which had barely arrived in the nick of time. I had less then an hour before curfew.

"Come on," I said to Colleen, "you promised you would help." We quickly made our way to the headmaster's office in as stealthy a manner as possible.

"Are you sure about this?" she said in a hoarse whisper. I nodded.

"Last month I overheard Carrow using the password 'Stargazer' to get past the gargoyle and this . . ." I held up my potted plant " . . . is a Stargazer." The corridor was deserted and I scurried into the stairwell, Colleen right behind me. I put the plant down in front of the gargoyle and took out my wand.

_"Floresco!"_ I said softly and the small buds on the plant swelled. Within a few seconds it was in full bloom. The flowers that opened were a bright pink, outlined in white with spots of red running down the length of each petal.

"It's beautiful!" Colleen exclaimed. "What kind of flower is it?" We tiptoed away from the gargoyle and headed back to our dormitory.

"It's a **lily**," I said.


	8. Chapter 8

Prompt: Detention! Create your own crime and take your pick of punishments (list was provided - I chose the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid and to meet at least one friendly animal and at least one not so friendly.)

* * *

"How was I supposed to know the stupid gargoyle was a snitch?" I hissed for the umpteenth time at my dormmate. "Or that the headmaster hates flowers?" We were heading down to Hagrid's hut to serve detention and Colleen was blaming me for our predicament. She was right. It was all my fault for trying to be nice.

A pale sun was just setting in the west and what little warmth it had imparted during the day was draining away rapidly as evening overtook the grounds. Technically, it would be winter for one more week and, despite how lovely the days had been recently, it was going to be very cold tonight. We were dressed for it.

Colleen pounded on Hagrid's door and yelled, "Detention Detail!" She refused to look at me.

"Yer jus' in time," the very large Professor said, as he opened the door and handed Colleen a jar of what looked like peppers and which she promptly handed to me. Hagrid frowned. "Okay," he said, "yeh can man the Floo powder. Come on in. Jus' watch where yeh step." Colleen stomped inside and I followed.

"Look out!" Hagrid yelled at her. She had almost stepped on a brilliant streak that skittered underfoot. "And close the door before they get out!" This command was directed at me and I quickly obeyed. The floor was covered with salamanders, glowing a very bright white.

"Now yeh can stand by the fireplace and jus' put tiny pinches of Floo powder on the embers when I tell yeh," Hagrid directed Colleen and took a seat in front of an odd contraption that looked a combination of sieve, funnel, bottle and yardstick. He pulled on a very thick dragonskin glove.

"Sure," she said sullenly and took a place near the bowl of Floo powder on the mantel.

"You," he said to me and pointed at a spot on the floor, "sit over there. The salamanders'll smell the peppers an' come ter get one from yeh." No sooner had I gotten comfortable, than my first customer scurried up. It looked a stubby little thing and I realized it was missing a tail. I pulled a pepper out of the jar by its stem and placed it in front of the creature. He gobbled it down and let out a little puff of steam as soft as a sigh. I heard a pop and the salamander was once again fully tailed. It bolted for the fireplace, halted, and looked up at Colleen.

"Give 'er a pinch, then" Hagrid said and Colleen dropped a few grains of Floo powder on the embers. My salamander jumped into the resulting green flames and, nearly at the same time, several more jumped out and headed toward Hagrid. "I got 'em trained," he said and I watched as he picked up one by the tail and placed it at the top of the yardstick. It gave a little waggle and its tail popped off! Hagrid dropped the tail in the sieve and the salamander ran down the plank straight at me. I served up a pepper and a moment later it headed for the fire. I looked up at Colleen. She was actually smiling as she sent it on its way. She looked over at me, delighted, and shrugged. This wasn't going to be as bad as we thought!

Time seemed to fly as we harvested salamander tails and slowly the bottle filled with blood. Just as the last of the critters jumped back into the fire, Colleen squealed. I looked up as she danced to one side and something gray seemed to slither out of the fireplace. It streaked under the door so quickly that I almost didn't see it.

"Hagrid!" I exclaimed. "That was an Ashwinder!"

"Well, it's about time," he said, not one bit concerned. "The salamanders are done and we can jus' leave this ter drain 'til we get back."

"Get back?"

"Yep. Last full moon of winter's a busy time, that's why I needed extra help for some collectin' in the forest," Hagrid said. He replaced the full bottle of blood with an empty one, stoppered it and set it on the table. "That should cover about a year of Potions classes." He paused by the door, taking a few collecting bags off a nail by the jamb and we followed him outside.

The moon was already so bright that no extra light was needed to track the trail of ash to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Past the tree line was another thing. Hagrid signaled Colleen to lead the way and she pulled her wand and said "Lumos."

Although Colleen was in the lead, Hagrid kept the pace, almost running her over several times. We had to walk very briskly or trot to keep up with him. I was beginning to think this was were the punishment part of our detention was entering into the equation when I caught a whiff of smoke.

"Hagrid!" cried Colleen. "That tree is on fire!"

"Hush, now," Hagrid whispered. "I don't want yeh scarin' all the critters off." He stepped in front of her and led the way to the tree, which was quite ablaze."You can put out the fire," he pointed at me. "And you," he pointed at Colleen, "can freeze the eggs - see 'em there in the hole at the base of the tree? Use the spell that makes them cold." We both nodded and aimed our wands.

_"Aguamenti!"_

_"Glacius!"_

After a few moments the situation was under control. Hagrid knelt, reached down into the hole and pulled out about two dozen eggs.

"That's a good clutch, that is." He carefully placed them in one of the collection bags and looked around. "Cushioning charm?"

I obliged and cast the spell. Now, in the quiet of the moment, my wand's characteristic hum could be heard. Hagrid looked at it and then at me. "Well, that's interestin'. Yer wand sing like that all the time?"

"Whenever it's working magic," I said, and to illustrate, added, _"Lumos"_ The tip flared with bright white light. The song was much louder and I held it aloft to cast its illumination about us. Just as I was about to end my demonstration I heard a very slight rustling and saw Hagrid's eyebrows raise in surprise at something behind me.

Slowly I turned around to face the most beautiful creature I had ever seen in my life. The unicorn - mane, tail and body - was entirely pure, shining white with a long silvery horn. It stood staring at the light, ears pricked toward the sound coming from my wand. Gaping, I turned my head toward Hagrid and mouthed, "What should I do?" He shook his head and slowly stood up. Colleen's mouth had dropped at least as far as mine. I heard another rustle and looked back at the creature. It - she - had been joined by a little foal, the color of spun gold. The little thing pranced up next to it's mother's shoulder and seemed as spellbound by the wand song as the mare was.

We all just stood there staring at each other; until my arm grew fatigued. I lowered my wand and whispered _"Nox."_ With the silencing of the wand song the unicorn gave a great snort. In the sudden darkness we heard the pair squeal, whirl about, and gallop off, hooves thudding on the ground.

"Well, I'll be," Hagrid said quietly. "That wand's summat handy, it is." He gently hoisted the bag with the Ashwinder eggs over his shoulder. "Did yeh see how pointy the mare's horn was?"

I hadn't.

"That means she's jus' shed 'er old one. With a newborn, she hasn't moved around much and that horn might be nearby. Can either of you perform a Summoning charm?"

"We've practiced a bit, though I'm still not very good." I raised my wand, thought a moment and said, "Accio unicorn horn!" My wand hummed for a moment and we heard something dragging across the ground. Slowly the sound came closer and soon a unicorn horn emerged from the underbrush. It struggled toward me and, seemingly exhausted, flopped at my feet. "Well, at least it worked!" I said, grinning. Hagrid picked it up, put it in another collection bag and turned toward Colleen.

Pointing in a direction past the burned tree, he said, "Best have you in the lead again. We've one more stop before we're done tonight." She lit her wand and we trotted along a trace of a trail until the trees thinned and grasses appeared. Hagrid halted and motioned for us to keep quiet. He ducked behind a line of shrubbery and we followed closely as he crept to the edge of a large open meadow. "Mooncalves," he whispered and pointed.

The animals dancing in the moonlight were about the size of Muggle raccoons, except they were grey and furless with huge eyes on the top of their heads. Despite the huge hind feet, the dancing was beautifully graceful. The effect, in the silence of the meadow, was ethereal. We watched for several minutes as more mooncalves arrived and joined the dance.  
"Olay," whispered Hagrid, "time to scare the whole bunch." Colleen frowned.

"But why, Hagrid?" she said.

"Well, we don' need more o' 'em around here, so it breaks up their mating ritual." Hagrid explained. "And by startling 'em, it makes 'em . . . uh . . . drop more dung. So let's jus' stand up and holler at 'em."

We jumped to our feet and Colleen's and my yells were drowned out by Hagrid's, which would have done a dragon proud. The mooncalves startled to a stop, eyes bulging. Then they all farted and ran for cover. We could see their silvery droppings from where we stood.

"I've got this one!" Colleen said excitedly and swished her wand across the entire meadow. "Accio mooncalf dung!" she shouted with a conviction I'd never heard her use before.

"Wait!" I yelled, but too late. I dropped to the ground as every dung pellet in the meadow came flying straight for us. Or rather, Colleen. She was covered from head to toe in freshly excreted mooncalf manure. I was laughing so hard, I couldn't stand up. Colleen turned to glare at me, but about a dozen blobs of silver on her face kinda spoiled the effect she was going for. Hagrid pulled the one hanging off her nose and plopped it into another collection bag. At that, even Colleen dissolved into giggles.

Between the three of us we scraped the dung into the bag and quickly cleaned Colleen up. Hagrid hefted all the bags over his shoulder and we headed back to his hut. Just before leaving the forest Hagrid stopped and reached down and lifted the leaf of a hellebore plant growing there. "Well, look what we've found."

* * *

Colleen and I trudged back to the castle, each with a lidded glass jar containing one fairy cocoon glowing softly in the dark. The sky was just barely beginning to streak with light from the rising sun.

"Sure glad today is Saturday, 'cause I'm sleeping until dinnertime," Colleen slurred.

I held my jar up to eye level and looked at the pupating fairy inside. Mine was fuschia. Colleen's was golden yellow.

"You know, if all detentions are like this, we've been missing out." I said.

"Yeah, it was rather fun, wasn't it?" Colleen tucked her jar into her robes as we stomped up the front steps to the great doors.

"Yeah, fun." I echoed and it suddenly hit me. Perhaps the headmaster hadn't meant our detention as a punishment.


	9. Chapter 9

Prompt: This was the last of the challenges and it was supposed to be a DADA obstacle course. Due to the moderators allowing a story to be submitted on a previous challenge that followed none of the rules and the need to wrap up my storyline to some extent, I tossed the rules out.

* * *

With a loud crack, a house elf Apparated right in front of me. I jumped at the noise and his sudden appearance, spilling a bit of hot chocolate from my mug down the front of my robe. He was an older elf with white hair growing out of his large, batlike ears. He was dressed in a white towel and had a golden locket about his neck.

"The Headmistress wishes to see you," the old elf croaked. I set my mug down on the workbench and looked up at the portrait of Professor Dumbledore. It was empty.

"Headmistress?" I said, confused. The elf muttered something to himself and grabbed hold of my arm. After a nauseating moment feeling like I had been squeezed through a rubber tube, my vision cleared and I was suddenly in what appeared to be the headmaster's office. It took a moment for the room to stop spinning. A large portrait of Albus Dumbledore hung on the wall and seemed to be addressing several people standing in front of a wide desk.

" . . . and I assure you, Minerva, that things would have been much, much worse . . . ah, here is Kreacher. He was assisting Severus in this endeavor . . ."

Professor McGonagall turned and eyed both me and the house elf. "Kreacher, did you help Headmaster Snape protect the students here at Hogwarts?" The old elf bowed in her direction.

"Yes, Headmistress. Headmaster Snape called Kreacher back to Hogwarts the day Master Harry left for the Ministry of Magic and didn't come back. Each day the headmaster gave Kreacher a healing potion to put into the evening pumpkin juice to help protect the students from harm. The headmaster was upset that Master Harry left Kreacher at Grimmauld Place." A thin boy, with unruly black hair and glasses that framed bright green eyes, cleared his throat.

"I can just bet he was upset with me," he said. My eyes widened as I saw the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. This must be the Harry Potter that everyone at school had been talking about ever since I boarded the Hogwarts Express.

"How was he brewing such large quantities of this potion without the Carrows finding out?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"I think that is something Miss Weaver can help us answer," Professor DD's portrait said and everyone turned to look at me.

"Well . . .well . . . I can't . . . I mean . . ." I stammered, blushing furiously upon finding myself the center of attention. "The headmaster did something so that I can't say were he made his potions."

"A Fidelius Charm?" Professor McGonagall said. "Miss Weaver, that means you are indeed able to show us this lab. Since Professor Snape was killed several hours ago, you are now its secret-keeper." I felt icy jolts of shock wash over me.

"Professor Snape is . . . he's dead?" I felt my eyes start to sting. "But he saved me from Professor Carrow," I said.

"What are you talking about, child?" Professor McGonagall demanded.

"Professor Carrow wanted our Dark Arts class to practice the spells he taught us before we took the exam." I hesitated. "He said . . ." my voice dropped to a whisper. "He said they could practice on me because I was a half-blood." The room was as silent as the grave. "Professor Snape came and took me from class and told me to stay in his potions lab until he came back for me. That's where Kreacher found me."

Professor McGonagall seemed to have trouble clearing her throat before speaking again.

"Please show us this place, Miss Weaver."

I lead the little group - myself, Professor McGonagall, Harry Potter and apparently two of his friends, a girl with busy brown hair and another boy with red hair and freckles - to the corridor with the trolls-in-tutus tapestry. As I thought about the headmaster's lab, a door suddenly appeared and I opened it. Everyone followed me inside.

My mug of hot chocolate was still sitting on the workbench and I walked over to it. If ever I needed chocolate, it was now. Professor McGonagall inspected the little workroom and found a parchment covered with cramped, minuscule handwriting.

"These ingredients are all healing herbs," she said. "He really was trying to protect the students."

"As he promised me he would do, Minerva," Professor Dumbledore was back in his portrait.

* * *

My father's hand warmed mine as we stood at the foot of the two white sepulchers. The funeral had been held several days ago and the tomb of Severus Snape had been placed next to that of Albus Dumbledore's. Letting go of his hand, I pulled my wand and stepped forward.

_"Cavum,"_ I said and pointed my wand at the foot of Headmaster Snape's sepulcher. A small hole appeared and my father handed me the plant that had been on the headmaster's desk - the one I had left on the stairs to his office. I removed it from its pot, placed it in the ground and tamped dirt around it. Standing, I waved my wand over it and whispered _"Floresco."_ The sagging blooms freshened and then flushed with color - white, pink and red.

We turned to go, walking up the hill toward the castle. Stopping for a moment, I looked back. This one plant would eventually multiply into many. Every spring the lilies would bloom at the foot of the headmaster's grave.


End file.
